Butterflies And Mockingjays
by Bookwormgirl202
Summary: Loosely based off The Selection by Kierra Cass. After her father's death, Katniss' family hasn't been holding up well. Living off of Katniss' hunting isn't enough. When The Selection, a competition for girls ages fifteen to seventeen to win the heart of Prince Peeta, comes around, Mrs. Everdeen asks Katniss to sign up considering they'd be receiving money for her participation. AU.
1. Chapter 1

_**The Selection by Kierra Cass is honestly an amazing story. If you haven't read it, I recommend you do as soon as you can. The world is quite interesting, as are the characters. I found myself falling in love with Maxon, just as much as I fell for Peeta. In fact, the reason I love the two of them so much is because of the many similarities I seem to find in the two of them. I saw certain similarities between the main character, America (yes, that's her name), and Katniss as well.**_

_**The reason I chose to write this story is because I always seemed to find myself replacing characters like Maxon and America, and finding Peeta and Katniss in their place. I decided to finally turn my imagination into a reality, or the closest thing I could get to reality. I wrote it. Of course, only the main concept is going to be the same. I've simply just changed the characters, the Castes are now the Districts, and it is no longer the country of Illea but of Panem. Also, instead of 35 girls going to the palace in Illea, there are 26 going to the palace in The Capitol.**_

_**You won't need to have read The Selection for this to be understandable, but if you haven't, I definitely recommend it. For those of you who have read it, you'll maybe recognize the 'tugging of the ear' if you understand where I'm coming from.**_

_**I do not own Katniss and Peeta, or any of the other characters and the world of Panem, sadly. They belong to Suzanne Collins, I am simply just borrowing them. (Fangirl reference anyone?)**_

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><p><em>Loosely based off of one of my favourite books, The Selection, by the<em>

_Amazingly talented, Kierra Cass._

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><p><em>Once upon a time, in a beautiful country known as Panem, there was a prince.<em>

_He was handsome and charming. His golden curls fell like a mop upon his head, and his blue eyes were as bright as the sun. Every girl in the country held a spot in their hearts for the prince with the golden hair. All of them hoping he'd fall madly in love with them. But of course, there would only be one._

_And there already was one._

_She lived by the castle, originally coming from one of the poorest districts in Panem, District 12. Every morning, she would seem to flutter into the castle like a beautiful butterfly. Her hopes higher than the sky, her heart brighter than his eyes._

_That's when he decided to call her his Butterfly. For she was delicate and beautiful, yet strong and curious._

_It didn't take long for him to fall madly in love with her. He'd walk through the basement of the castle every day, simply just to catch the smallest glimpse of her. And he would. He'd catch her humming a tune he'd never heard before as she healed the injured guards or sick maids. He'd hear her laugh along with the other healers in the castle._

_Eventually, when he had fallen off of a sprinting horse and broke his right leg, he was brought to her, to his Butterfly. The prince had never heard her speak before, just her gorgeous laugh and the humming of her voice. But he swears when he had finally heard her speak, there was a melody playing far off in the background, making her voice seem like a song. And it would happen every time she spoke. A constant lovely melody filling his ears._

_And he remembers when she had touched his leg, a simple warm hand gently upon his skin, he thought it had already healed. One night, she had stayed with him in his room working a night shift, when he saw her sleeping, her blonde curls sprawled onto the couch, her porcelain skin shining in the moonlight which sunk in by the open window._

_She had insisted on staying with him, in case he had pain during nighttime, she would help him. And he remembers her persistence, her loving heart making its way into her words. And that's when her knew, he was officially a goner._

_He remembers staying with her another night, the two of them sitting on the couch by the open door which led to the balcony, her eyes an even brighter blue than his. He had kissed her, and she had kissed him as well. A spark of energy few into his veins, his heart vibrant. And he had told her how he felt, not caring whether or not she would say it back._

_And she didn't. She never did._

_The next day, The Selection was announced, the tradition each eldest prince would have to endure. The tradition he wasn't looking forward to. The Selection was told to be a wonderful event, one filled with love and honour. There would be two girls from each District, and the Capitol of course, coming to the palace, simply for him. He would get to know the lovely girls, and in the end, he would have to power to choose who wold be his bride, and the future queen of Panem._

_The prince had argued, explaining how he didn't want any other girl considering he already found the one he wanted to marry. But his father denied his sons heart, and told him that marrying a girl from the poorest District would be a disgrace to the kingdom._

"_The only reason I'm including District 12 in this event is because The Selection is a tradition I didn't invent, and can't change. I would seem awfully rude and maybe even evil if I took them out of it," the king slurred, his wife nodding in agreement. "I can't afford Panem thinking of me as unfair. It would ruin our reputation, and could maybe even cause a rebellion at the sudden change."_

"_Well, God forbid the people of Panem see you for who you truly are, Father," the prince had said sternly, and walked out of the room before the king could've said another word. He wanted to run, run away with her, and leave the castle. He had two younger brothers, surely one of them could take his place._

_He had made his way to the basement, wanting to tell her his plan, but instead of entering the room and finding her calming presence, he found emptiness and sorrow, the same feeling the castle occupied before she had arrived._

_He knew something was wrong, and he head out to find her. The prince searched the entire basement, running into every room. Finally, he had run into one of her best friends._

"_Where is she?" He had asked frantically, his eyes seeming to lose its brightness in the dim basement, where no light would ever come through. Her friend was shocked, not expecting his question. No one thought he would care, wasn't he supposed to have his Selection?_

"_She left," the friend explained softly, a hand pressed onto his shoulder. But he felt nothing. No softness, no warmth. For it was only her who could give him that. "She's going back to 12."_

"_But… Why?" The prince didn't recognize his own voice, chocked up on words. He had never chocked on words before, princes weren't supposed to choke on their words. But he couldn't help it, she had that effect on him._

"_Didn't you know this wasn't permanent," she stated in confusion. "This was only practice for her healing back in 12."_

"_But I'm sure if I ask for her to come back, she will, right? I mean, she'd much rather be here than in 12," he said, and closed his mouth tightly after he spat out the last words as though they burnt his tongue. He did not want to be his father. He would always be fair, to everyone._

"_I'm not quite sure," she said softly, confusion making its way upon the princes face. "She spoke about a boy. A boy who, when he sang, the birds seemed to stop and listen."_

_There was a pause._

_And then a sound._

_The sound of emptiness, the sound of hollowness._

_And then, the prince heard his heart shatter._

_The shards of a broken heart seeming to cut the veins in which worked his function, considering he could no longer seem to move, to speak. And he was positive that his heart would never be able to love anyone else like he loved her._

_Although a broken heart was on his mind, 26 girls came to the palace for The Selection, for him. None of them being the girl he wished could've entered. And he had tried to love, tried to force himself to love them._

_But you weren't supposed to force yourself to love someone, you could try. Try and make a stronger relationship, but never could you fool your heart into doing something it didn't accept doing._

_So he decided not to choose based upon love, but who would make a better queen._

_There was a perfect candidate for queen. She was nothing like the girl. She seemed to hold no love for anything else but Panem, her eyes always stern. Her beauty was not elegant, not obvious, but she seemed graceful. Her hazel eyes held pride, as did her heart. And her hair was golden as well, but never would it dance down on her back like his Butterflies hair always would._

_Although she didn't seem to love him very much either, she looked devoted to getting the crown, not him. And that's what he wanted._

_Finally, he had chosen her, the country was proud and delighted with the choice from District 2. She was in love with her country, and she was in love with her crown. The king was proud of his son, as was the queen, and together, they gratefully handed their positions to them._

_Four years later, the selected, or now, the queen, was still in love with her position, more than anything. And the prince, now the king, was still heartbroken over a girl he could never have._

_Finally, she had gotten pregnant, as the wishes of the country. The king was thrilled, but the queen was still more occupied in her fame than her child. He remembers trying to get her to be happy, to explain how this was their child, their baby. But truly, they were only failed attempts to get himself to find something in her heart he could fall for. He remembers she had just nodded solemnly, and changed the subject._

_That's when he knew, he could never love her. He couldn't even make his heart desire her love anymore._

_When it was time for her to give birth, he remembers her not bothered about the pain, but wondering whether or not their child would be a good ruler for the country. The king had insisted on having the gender a surprise, despite her attempts of wanting to know, so she could be prepared. But he had won this argument._

_And the baby was born._

_A boy._

_He had a head of blonde curls, and was the tinniest baby the king had ever seen._

_But this wasn't just any baby, this was his baby._

_When they told the queen it was a boy, she smiled brightly, the king surprised. But his shock had vanished once she had said that she was glad it was a boy so she didn't have to have another child, or wait until she gets a boy who could finally rule the country._

_When the king was handed his son, his eyes became watery, the brightness in his eyes becoming stronger. And for the first time, he felt a few pieces of his heart glue themselves back together._

_Although he ached for this baby to be her baby as well, it wasn't. The king held his son as though he was holding something much more than a baby, much more than a prince._

_He was holding life, he was holding love._

_Slowly, he wanted to hand the queen her son, but she denied it, explaining she needed rest so she could get back to work as soon as possible. She even denied naming him, explaining how she would let the king do so._

_That night, the kind sat on a rocking chair in his son's bedroom, humming the tune the girl would always hum to him softly. He wanted to sing, but every time he would try, he wished the birds would stop and listen._

_But they didn't. Besides, it was night, what bird would be awake at this time?_

_As he stared down upon his son, whose eyes were blue and bright. Even brighter than his father's. Bright with innocence, without any heartbreak. The world could not touch him yet, for all babies were the same. Babies held a power all adults wish they could have. The power of being unbreakable, untouchable._

_Unfortunately, his son would never get to remember his young years of being untouchable. Maybe that's what made him untouchable._

_Not remembering._

_The king looked down upon the prince, a smile forming upon the king's lips, and the baby's as well. Or the closest thing a baby can get to a smile. As the king noticed the resemblance between him and his son, his son whose entire hand grasped onto his finger, he made him a promise._

"_I promise," The king began in a soothing voice. "I promise you, when you fall in love with someone, when you love that person as much as I loved her, you will get to marry them. You will have to power to marry for love. I will not let you have it any other way, even if I die doing so. I promise."_

_The king looked at his son's soft features, his blue eyes looking up at the king as though he were the most amazing thing in the world, his lips tugging up loosely. The king managed a small chuckle at his son's love._

_Gently, the king pressed a kiss onto his forehead._

"_I love you, Peeta," he said softly. "And so will someone else."_

_And then the king looked out the window, and there, on the branch of a tall tree, sat a mockingjay._

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><p>Butterflies and Mockingjays<p>

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><p>There was no use in ignoring it when I knew it was going to happen sooner or later. I knew that the question was held tightly in the back of her lips, and that soon, it would make its way out of her mouth, and into the air. I know she didn't want to ask, and I know that she knows I don't want her to ask, but we both know that she's going to have to ask. And I'm going to have to agree.<p>

Although the question wasn't asked yet, I knew it was coming, and I tried to prepare myself for it. But it seemed impossible to prepare myself for this, despite the fact I knew this would be coming for months. The media wouldn't stop booming about it since the prince had finally turned 17, and the question became harder to escape every day, considering everyday they would speak about it more than the previous day.

And eventually, it became inevitable. The girls at school would blabber about it continuously, the girls at work, and the closer to the event we got, the more people would begin to speak about it. The boys began talking about it as well, a fear that the girl they planned on marrying would be selected, that they would end up alone.

Due to the lack of money and food in our district, we marry early, businesses rising stronger when two children from different backgrounds marry. I know a girl in my class had married two weeks ago, she was the daughter of the butcher, and she married the baker's son. Because of the merge, business grew wider for now pastries could be filled with delicious meat, the perfect meal.

Despite the teenager's hopes, it's always the parents who chose who they would marry. This practice was much more popular with the Merchants rather than here, in the Seam. Obviously, most of the time, parents would make their children marry the children of a friend who owned a strong business. It always worked that way.

Rarely would anyone marry for love in District 12. Rarely would anyone marry for love in Panem, actually. Love was a rare experience which was strongest upon families. Mother's, father's, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles were really the only lasting love you get. Of course, that is unless they die.

The mines are not safe, in fact they're everything but safe. And because of lack of safety the Capitol provides us, the mines collapsing were something that happened very often. And of course, people die. People from the Seam, they die. Not the merchants, for they own simple businesses in town. They were much safer than we were.

They were the lucky ones. We were stuck with the uncertainty of death, not enough food, and barely any shelter. It was an unfair deal that we had been granted, and it was something I had to live with.

"Katniss," Mom says softly, and I suddenly stop drying the dishes, knowing what was coming. "I think you know what I'm going to ask." I feel my heart beating faster, the blood pumping throughout my veins instead of flowing effortlessly.

"I do," I state dryly, not knowing what else to say. I never really knew what else to say. I found myself often caught on an overlapping lapse of thought which couldn't escape through my mouth. It was though I knew what I wanted to say, but I just couldn't.

"Katniss I hate to have to ask you," she says reluctantly, beginning to choke up softly. I know she never wanted to have to count on her oldest for something so important before, that she and Dad could've handled it well on their own. "I never thought I would have to."

I turn to face her, placing the plate softly on the counter. She stopped folding the laundry, yet she clutched onto the shirt tightly. Her eyes are rimmed with red and I know why. I know that she would never force me into a marriage.

My father and mother had always told me, ever since I was young, that I would have to freedom to marry whoever I wanted, out of love. They wouldn't force me into a marriage with someone I didn't know. Someone I didn't love. And now, she feels as though she is.

The reason they wanted me to choose upon love instead of business, instead of money, was because of them. My mother was one of the lucky ones who got to choose who she wanted to marry. Originally, when her parents had shipped her off to the castle for better knowledge on healing, they had high hopes the prince would fall for her.

Apparently, every boy in the district already had. They had gotten countless offers for marriage, but her parents held onto them, and waited for her return. Even though they knew the Selection was arriving, they still held their head high, knowing that he would most likely fall for her if he saw her.

I was told my mother had a certain effect on people, an effect every girl wishes she could have. Although every girl desired it, no one really knew what it truly was. Was it only her beauty? Was it her beauty and her kindness? Was it her warmth and softness? No one knew, but none the less, it was wanted.

I remember my mother told me that when she came back from the castle, her parents were let down that she hadn't charmed the prince. But she became a better healer, which was deeply needed in twelve. And her parents, who owned a small clothing shop, were ready to let her marry the head Peacekeepers son.

But she denied the offer. Her parents were shocked, and they wanted so much to convince her into marrying him. To force her. But there was no use, she was already at The Seam the next day, my father waiting for her by the door, a smile upon his face.

My father always told me he was hated having to bring my mother into poverty like his; that he had to bring her in his awful world of death and sorrow. But my mother would always answer with the same words. "But there is love."

"Mom," I begin, the thought in my head slowly untangling itself from a large knot of words I couldn't seem to comprehend through my mouth. "It's alright. Just say it." Although I know what she's going to say, I need to hear it. Or else, it still won't feel real.

"Katniss," she begins, placing the shirt on the couch, making her way forward to me. Gently, her warm hand slides into mine, and a soft smile forms on her lips. "We don't have much money. We don't have much in general. So Katniss, I was wondering if you wanted to sign yourself up for the Selection. To help us"

And when she finished, I felt reality crash into me at full speed. I knew I couldn't say no, although I wanted to. Although I felt I should. I knew that this was what I had to do, for my family.

Even though there were about a few hundreds of girls aged between fifteen and seventeen in twelve, and even though my chances were low, I would sign up anyway. Being chosen for The Selection would mean money would come in from the palace every week for my family. Although in the Capitol it didn't seem like much, to us it was a fortune.

"I'll do it." Hearing those words escape my mouth felt like they didn't belong to me at all. Like they belonged to one of the Merchant girls who thought they were madly in love with Prince Peeta, even if they didn't know him.

I never understood how they could be so positive that he was the one, yet they didn't know him at all. They just thought they knew him, from interviews and magazines. They based him off the countless interviews he had and the stereotype that he was a prince. And because he was a prince, he must be charming, and kind and amazing.

I hated girls like that. What if he was rude, and cruel? What if that was all just an act and he was a snob like they always are. But maybe that was a stereotype of our own, here in The Seam.

My mother had met the king when she had been shipped off to the palace for training. She says the only reason she got in was because of her kind reputation, and high grades in school. My father used to think otherwise. He said it was because King Graham had seen a picture of her, and he thought she was so beautiful, he insisted on having her.

"Why didn't he love her then, Daddy?" I would always ask, my seven year old spirits high, my heart open to everyone.

"Oh he did," Dad said as he held my three year old sister, Prim, in his arms. "The only reason he didn't was so I could have her to myself!" And then my mother kissed him, and I laughed, and Prim giggled, although she most likely didn't understand what he was fully saying.

"That was nice of him," I added, a wide grin on my face. My father smiled, handing Prim to my mother and coming over to place a kiss on the crown of my head. "It sure was my little Mockingjay."

And I was right. My mother said that despite the fact that she didn't get to know him too well, he was the kindest of all his family. He would complement everyone, and wear a smile on his face every day. She says his hope never faltered and his eyes never seemed to darken, for they were always as bright as the sun.

Of course, if Prince Peeta was raised by King Graham, than he must be just as kind of course. So maybe the girls were right. If it weren't for the queen that is. Queen Dea was the opposite of the king. It was obvious considering she didn't seem to hide her narcissistic and cruel behaviour. She only seemed to focus on the higher Districts of Panem, and paid attention to nobody, barely even her son.

The odds of him being like her were low considering they barely seemed close, and he seemed very close with his father. I remember whenever they would interview him when he was young, whenever he would get nervous, he'd glance to his father who would hand him a reassuring smile.

In all honestly, Prince Peeta seemed… genuine. He didn't look like his mother either, and certainly didn't behave like her. He was humble and kind. He seemed as though he didn't know he was the prince at all sometimes. Maybe that's why they all like him so much.

But even though he's kind and hopeful, he must certainly be a good actor. All Royals have that in common. It was in their blood, in their veins. There was still a chance that this was all an act, even though I wished it won't be. If I get selected, which most likely won't happen, I want him to be kind, not self-centered.

"What are you gonna do?" Prim's voice echoed throughout our house as she walked through the door. She walked over to give my mother a hug, and then one for me as well. "What's going on, Katniss?"

Prim. The real reason I'm singing myself up for something I wish I didn't have to sign myself up for. She was filled with hope, and goodness, and kindness. She still held some shreds of innocence.

"I'm signing up for The Selection tomorrow," I say calmly, although I feel a large lump in my through. Gently, Prim backs away, shocked. Prim knows how I feel about The Selection.

She knows I think it's foolish and that the prince should marry someone from The Capitol. Besides, princes always pick the higher Districts which offer much richer women who know how to handle fame. Not girls like here in twelve who are going to drown into the pool of mixed judgements and compliments.

"Why?" She asks, her eyes darting in between my mother and I. Despite my feelings for the Royals, Prim adores most of them. She has the same perspective of Prince Peeta like most of the other girl's in twelve do. "I thought your opinion on the Royals was that they're total snobs."

My mother raises her eyebrows at me, making my mind remember when she had said that the king was kind and generous. But marrying someone like the queen makes me doubt it.

"I know, Little Duck," I say, wrapping an arm around her shoulders lightly. "It's just right now we're a little tight on money and if I get in the Selection, we'll be getting lots of money weekly, and maybe more afterwards."

It was true, after you were in The Selection your life could be turned upside down completely. Most of the time, after being in The Selection, the candidates who don't get chosen go live in The Capitol and marry rich men who love them.

Prim's expressions seem to soften after the mention of money, and she slouches slightly, understanding. She was like this as a child, too. She would always want an extra toy when we passed the shop, or another pastry by the bakery, but my father would always feel bad and say no softly.

Mom always tells me that when I was younger, I got to reality much faster than Prim did. I would never ask, never beg, and never cry. I was independent and understanding at a young age, while Prim lingered onto those assets much longer than I did.

"Oh," Prim sighs softly. "I get it now." Slowly, she unravels herself from my arm and heads into the bathroom, closing the door softly. I look towards my mother, whose eyes are gazing down onto the floor.

"Your father would never want this for you, Katniss." Mom says it as though the words hurt her physically. Like she had gotten a punch to the stomach, and punch to the heart.

At the age of eleven, my father died. The mines collapsed, my father collapsed and even though my mother wasn't in them, she collapsed as well. She collapsed mentally, depression and heartbreak taking over her form. It was so awful that I had to begin doing things myself, which led to the begging of my hunting days.

I don't remember much of the crowded years other than taking care of Prim, hunting to keep us alive, cooking, trading and taking control completely. And during this time, my mother always laid in her bed, drowning in her deep thoughts and her hollow feelings.

I had lost two parents when those mines collapsed, but one of them was still physically here, while the other wasn't. I think it was much worse that way, how my mother was still here. Because it was only half true, she was here, but at the same time she wasn't. There was a period in my life where I had lost my mother, where she didn't love us anymore. Where she shredded into nothing. Just breathing and heartbeats. That was all she was for years.

Eventually, she had gotten better, taking her pills that were prescribed, becoming our mother again. Prim forgave my mother in a heartbeat, her kindness and love making its way to her quickly. But I didn't. No forgiving. No love. Not right away at least. I was cold to her, making her realize what she had done. That it can't be undone.

But of course, for Prim's sake, for my mother's sake, and although I won't admit it, maybe even my sake too, I forgave her. Not completely at first, for that was too difficult and it was something my heart couldn't tolerate. But after time, I forgave her more and more each day as she got back to work, as she got back to health.

"No Mom," I say, walking over to her again, placing a hand on her shoulder. "He would want us to be okay. To have money, and to live better than this, okay?" Her eyes look up to mine, and she envelopes me in a hug.

"You've always been so good, Katniss," she says softly, her hand fiddling with my braid, which fell upon my back. "So good." I nod against her shoulder, because once again my thoughts are filled in knots the size of my head.

Gently, she kisses my forehead, and I walk out the door, shoving my braid back over my shoulder where it's supposed to be.

There's someone I have to speak to.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading, tell me how you feel about it! <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone! I'm really thrilled if you enjoy my story and thank you all for the follows and favourites, as well as reviews. Not much happens in this chapter, for we're only building to the plot. But I can assure you it will begin the get much more interesting!**

**Hope you all enjoy and consider reading The Selection by Kierra Cass!**

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><p>"<em>Friends are the family you choose."<em>

_- Jess C. Scott_

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><p><em>I looked silly. Why was I just standing here? Prim is hungry, I'm hungry. Standing by the fence wouldn't cure our hunger. Simply just standing by something would never cure anything. I had to do something about this. <em>

_Reluctantly, I place a shaky hand by the fence, my ear perching up, listening attentively for the unfamiliar buzzing I had rarely ever encountered. Luckily, I heard nothing. _

_Swiftly, I made my way under the cut fence, all in one quick motion. Something I've done too many time to be forgotten. It was as though I could feel the air change the second I had made my way into the woods. No longer did I feel the stressful sensation of my district, but the calming sensation of the air. I hadn't even made my way fully into the woods yet._

_How could we have gotten to a point where we let a fence separate our freedom? How could I feel something completely different by crawling through a cut space? How was that even possible? I never thought it would be. I thought the only way to feel a difference was to escape hundreds of thousand miles away. But I swear, crawling through the fence felt as though I was even farther, yet I could still see the buildings in a distance. _

_Quickly, I ran towards the deeper end of the forest, the sensation of freedom widening every step I take further into my woods. The woods Dad thought me. These were our woods before, and now, I suppose they're mine. Although even now, months after his death, they still felt like his._

_Even if Dad died in the mining accident, the collapsing of the mines which he worked in, his death still felt like murder. The Capitol murdered him, as well as other parents and citizens of this crappy district. They should've made the mines safer; stronger. But of course, it was passed off as an accident. _

_The Monarchy was too perfect, too flawless to admit their mistakes. Besides, I'm sure they didn't even know that the mines weren't safe. Sometimes, not paying enough attention comes to the same equivalent as murder. _

_I make my way through the familiar pathway I've made myself, and grab my bow from its hiding place. This is the second time I've been in these woods since my father had passed, and I still feel as though he's right behind me, watching as I place my arrow onto the bowstring carefully. _

_My movements seemed to be based on how he would teach me, I do everything exactly how he thought me to._

"_You're a fast learner," He said, his words still echoing into my head as though my mind were a hollow cave. At first, I hadn't believed him, I was the farthest thing from a fast learner. If anything, I was the opposite. I took my time, and seemed to be too slow, for the animal would always run off before I could shoot it. But he still insisted, explaining that my patience was what made me a good hunter._

_Now I understand as I wait for any sign of bate I could get my hands on. We hadn't eaten a good meal for days, and Prim was growing quickly, her hunger getting wider. And my mother is hungry as well, but she has the power to do something about it, she was the adult. Yet she doesn't seem to be doing anything. It was my job. She made it clear without having to do anything at all. Maybe that was her way of telling me._

_Suddenly, I see something in the distance, by the lake. I feel a grin grow wide upon my face as I bring my bow up, the arrow pointing directly towards the animal. It was a deer, rarely would I get a jackpot like this. This would bring fur to my family, good for trades, and could feed us for days. _

_As I prepare to shoot, I hear a snap, and then I see something much similar to an arrow shoot the deer right on its left side. Quickly, I fall back, hiding behind a tree. Why was there someone else in the woods? Was it a Peacekeeper? But that was impossible, they had guns, and I'd never seen one in here before._

_What is my family going to do? They can't live without me, I'm their source of food. And Prim, what's she going to do? Who will feed her if I die, my mother will be even more torn apart. She will definitely not be the one to do so._

_Finally, when I finally see a body come to claim the deer, I feel shocked. It's a boy. I feel myself untying myself from the tree, moving closer to get a better look. I go on my knees, hiding behind a bush of blackberries, which I should be gathering for food. But instead, I watch as he observes the animal suspiciously. _

_I decide to move closer, but regret it the second I step on a branch, which causes a loud noise, and his head to turn towards be abruptly. I curse myself internally, crouching down even more. But it's too late, he had seen me._

"_Hey!" His voice called out, booming through the forest. I flinched, I wasn't used to such a loud noise here in the woods. "I saw you! Get out here!" I stay down, not wanting to blow my cover, but I know that there's no point, he'll come here if I don't get up. _

_Slowly, I begin to stand, my bow clutched tightly in my hand, my arrows in the pouch on my back. I eye him carefully, making myself look intimidating, or as intimidating as possible for a small twelve year old girl. _

"_What are you doing in here?" The boy's voice is softer now, and he walks towards me carefully. Without thought, I place my bow towards him, as though I were going to shoot. He stops dead in his tracks, placing his hands in the air. _

"_Whoa, look, calm down. I'm not gonna kill you or anything. We've committed the same crime," He practically laughs, making his way closer to me, but I still keep my bow up high, directed towards him._

"_You know, I'm here for my family. They're hungry, and I have to feed them," he states calmly, making his way close enough for me to spot his features. His grey eyes bore into mine, I can almost see a fire right through them. "My father died, so it's kinda my job now." _

_I slowly place my bow lower, but when he finally puts his hands down, and comes even closer, I pull it up again. This time he doesn't stop, and still comes closer, a tired look upon his face. His features are young, yet he still resembles a fully grown man. _

"_Are you from The Seam?" He asks calmly, only a few feet away from me now. He's stopped moving, but I still have my bow pointed in his direction. I nod, almost unnoticeable, yet he catches it. "So am I."_

"_I have some berries," he hands them out towards me, as though showing me proof. Once I look towards them I gasp, place my bow down, and throw them out of his hands, letting them fall upon the ground. _

"_What the hell!" He yells, moving to pick them up, but my voice stops him. "Don't! That's nightlock, you'll be dead within a few seconds!" He stops gathering them, looking up to me. I can't tell whether or not he believes me. Maybe he thinks I'm just trying to steal them from him, and before he can accuse me, I point to the blackberry bush behind me._

"_I'm not trying to steal them," I assure, pointing at the bush. "Why would I if I have perfectly fresh blackberries right here." His eyes trail behind me, and he drops down the nightlock, standing. _

"_Sorry," he states, looking down at me, placing his bow over his shoulders. "I'm new to most of this. My father had barely got to teach me anything before he died." _

_I shrug. "I can tell, your shooting is awful as well. You should've shot him in the eye instead, more meat that way." I begin to walk off, making my way towards the animal. The boy follows behind me, he's so loud I can hear his feet stomp against the ground._

"_You need to work on you quietness, too," I explain, crouching down to observe the dead animal. I hear him stiffen a fake laugh. I turn my head towards him, raising my shoulders as though to ask what the problem was._

"_How was I supposed to shoot him in the eye if he isn't looking towards me?" He asks, crouching by me. He smells like mint leaves and burnt wood. "Throw a rock to make noise in your direction, he'll hear the noise, and before he can run off he'll look towards you. That's when you shoot him in the eye."_

"_That's clever," he smiles, his eyes making its way to mine. "I'm Gale. Gale Hawthorne. And you are?" I look up at him, and open my mouth but no words come out. His eyebrows furrow together in confusion, and finally words make its way through my mouth._

"_I'm Katniss," I whisper, stammering. I'd barely spoken to a boy before, especially a good looking one like him. I know it's silly of me to behave this way, but I can't help myself. _

"_Catnip?" He asks, bewildered. But then he shrugs it off, and before I can correct him, he continues. "Well alright then Catnip, that's an odd name but I guess I could live with it."_

"_It's Katniss!" I insist, louder. "Katniss Everdeen." I say my name proudly this time, crossing my hands over my chest. Who would name their child Catnip? What an awful name._

"_Oh," he laughs, causing a smile from my part too. "Oh, so she smiles!" I turn towards him, scowling. Something I've began doing often since my father had died. My smile had been replaced my stern faces and scowls. I like the trade in all honesty. Makes me seem… more intimidating I suppose. _

"_How old are you?" He asks curiously, a smile across his face as well. "I'm twelve," I state. "How old are you?" _

"_Fourteen."_

"_Fourteen?"_

"_Yup. Why the disbelief?"_

"_You look seem older."_

"_Well, you seem younger."_

"_Thanks," I say, scowling once more. I was small for my age. Yet I don't get to eat very much, but I'm sure Gale doesn't either. Maybe it's his genes? Was he was born to look strong and tough?_

"_You know," Gale begins. "I made some snares and caught plenty of birds. I see that I've interrupted your hunting, so I'll be kind enough to give you two." I laugh bitterly._

"_Thanks for the offer but I can handle myself just fine," I state dryly. "But you did kill my diner for the next few days that I was going to shoot, so I'll accept. But just this once." Gale smiles as me widely. _

"_Well I guess you'll just have to teach me to shoot properly," He smirks, handing me the birds. I shove them in my bag, a smile creeping along my face. 'No,' I instruct myself. 'No smiling, put that away, Katniss.'_

"_Only if you teach me how to make snares like yours," I admit. "Mine don't really catch much." _

"_Is this an alliance we have here Catnip?" he laughs, and I roll my eyes. The scowl quickly replacing my smile. _

"_Katniss," I correct, tugging onto my braid lightly. "And I guess so." _

_Gale smiles, and I smile. I'd never smiled like this since my father had died. And I don't know whether this is a good thing, or a bad one._

* * *

><p>He's late. This rarely happened. But when it did, there must be a good reason. I sit by the lake, my game bag full already. I listen as the water crashes onto the shore. It reminds me of when my father had thought me to swim when I was younger. The memory makes my heart swell, and I shrug it off before I begin to think deeper.<p>

"Catnip," I hear the familiar voice and turn towards him, watching as he sits by me. "Sorry I'm late, I got us some treats."

I give him a confused look. Treats? Why would he be getting me treats? Gale hands me a croissant, something I could never afford. Something I thought Gale could never afford. Quickly I latch at it.

"How'd you get these?" I ask, completely surprised. There was no way Gale had bought all these, but he wouldn't have stolen them either. That wasn't like him. "One of the baker's daughters is in Rory's class. Apparently she has a crush on him, so she gave him some treats."

I laugh. "Well I hope this crush lasts for a while," a smirk evident upon my face as I stuff myself with the luxurious pastries. "Me too," Gale agrees. Suddenly a silent goes through us, and I know I have to say it.

"Gale, you know my family is tight on money," I say lightly. He turns towards me, shrugging, wondering where this would lead to. Although I've known Gale for a large part of my life, I can't really figure out how he will react. There are too many possibilities for me to pinpoint one. "So The Selection is coming up soon, and I'll get money weekly if I get chosen. So I'm gonna sign up for the Reaping tomorrow."

Gale looks at me oddly. As though I had slapped him, and I can't help but wonder why. I understood he would be disappointed, but not as though I had broken his heart.

"Oh." The sound makes its way into my heart, making me feel as though I had crushed him. I can understand why now. If I were to marry anyone, it would've most likely had to be Gale. Although I would love him, but for different reasons, I would still have to. Who else would I marry?

At first I didn't want to marry. It's not like I wanted to bring children into this awful world of cruelty and inequality. It was unfair to me, and to my children. So if I wasn't going to have kids, then why marry? But then my mother had told me the story of women who don't marry. They don't have enough, and can't fend for themselves much anymore.

So they sell their bodies to men, men who are willing to pay for their pleasure. It disgusted me when I was told. Although I promised myself I would never become one of those women, I decided to marry, for a certainty. I didn't want to lose my pride enough to sell my body. It feared me, to feel so useless that I would sell myself to men who would use me.

Never.

"Gale," I begin again, softly. "It's not like I'll even get picked. But even submitting will get me a few bucks. There are too many girls here anyway. My odds are extremely low."

Gale looks away from me, but he nods. "I have to go, Katniss." It's when he doesn't use my nickname that I know he isn't angry, not even devastated. But sad. It's not like I'll get picked, I'm just trying to make an effort for my family. Clearly, Gale is not okay with that.

And I'm certainly not okay with the fact that we're so poor that my mother had broken her promise to make me marry for love, and made me sign up for The Selection.

Reluctantly, I get up, and make my way towards the sign up areas in town. I stop by my house first, changing into a dress my mother laid out, and braiding my hair again in a better way.

I don't know why I felt obliged to make myself feel pretty, but every other girl my age was doing so and I didn't want to feel like the odd man out. I walk out of my home, and head towards town alone. My mother was busy healing someone, and Prim was observing her.

She wanted to be a healer as well. I'm sure one day, she will. She has all the fantastic traits a healer should have. And it was in her blood. While she inherited that from my mother, I inherited the hunting from my father. I wish we could've split the traits, fifty to fifty. But obviously, that hadn't happened.

Finally, I arrive at the square. Awaiting me, is a large signup line. Girls, Seam and Merchants are all in line, waiting to sign up for The Selection. All these girls, desiring the heart of one boy.

And this was only in Twelve. I couldn't imagine the other Districts, which were much more populated than this one. I walk in the line, a crowd of people surrounding us, little girls wanting to be in our place. Some boys are watching their supposed to be wives in line as they sign up for The Selection.

And there are Peacekeepers everywhere, surrounding us. I spot Darius, who hands me a wink. I roll my eyes and look away, spotting a familiar blonde head in front of me.

"Katniss?" Her voice asks, and I smile genuinely. "Hey Madge," I say kindly. "Signing up for The Selection, too?"

"Yes," she says softly. "My father said it would look bad if I hadn't signed up for it." Her father is District Twelve's most important leader. Although we have a monarchy, we need someone to take over our District in a better view. He is sources with the Monarchy. That's why Madge is here.

If not, I know she wouldn't have signed up. She's not like that. She's very quiet, and keeps to herself. Which I admire her for. In school, the two of us aren't exactly social butterflies, which lead to having each other as partners very often.

"What about you?" She asks, obviously curious why I, someone who detests the Monarchy, would be here, signing for The Selection.

"We receive money if we sign up, even if it isn't much," I state. "But if I get selected, which is very unlikely considering the amount of people, we get hundreds of dollars weekly. Or, the family does. And even if I don't win The Selection, chances are I'll live in The Capitol, and I'll bring my family."

Madge nods in sympathy. If Gale were here, he'd be angry. He insists that Madge could never understand what we have to deal with, explaining how no rich girl from town could ever have any sympathy for us. I disagree.

Yes, it's true, to have to fully understand something you'd have to go through it. But you could still see what was going on if you paid attention. And Madge certainly paid attention. She wasn't like the other girls from The Seam. She held kindness and tried to understand us. She was the furthest thing from a snob, and I could only hope the same for Prince Peeta if I get chosen.

"I'm sure you'll get chosen," I say honestly, no jealousy on my part, just a statement. "These things are always rigged. They'd much rather have a Merchant girl than a Seam one." Madge shrugs, not knowing how to answer me.

But she knew I was right. Obviously, these things were rigged. Decades ago, on King Grahams Selection, it had been two merchant girls who had gotten chosen. And for his father, King Coriolanus Snow Mellark, it had been the same. And I'm certain, it had been the same before him as well.

Besides, never would the Prince want to marry a Seam girl. A poor useless girl whose chances of having to sell her body to a man are higher than the palace, wider than The Capitol.

"You might get chosen too, Katniss," She smiles at me, her pearly teeth bright in the sun. "You're gorgeous. And you certainly don't give yourself enough credit. For anything."

I want to accept the compliment, although I know it isn't true. I am the farthest thing from beautiful. I'm simply just in between. I wasn't exactly completely ugly, but I wasn't beautiful either. I was like a broken mirror that hadn't fallen to pieces yet. I wasn't completely useless.

"Thank you," I say, although it was hard for me to accept something I knew was a lie. "But I'm certain that how much money you have and where you live is something much more important."

"I suppose," she states, tying up her hair in a tight ponytail. Madge certainly was beautiful as well. She was delicate, yet precious. She was the pearl in the swarm of coal. "But if something as stupid as where you live is more important than personality, I'm certain that how you look is important as well. I mean, why else would you need a picture."

Madge was right. I had always thought the picture was to show on interviews, or to prepare the prince. But maybe they would chose the most beautiful, and the richest as well. But at the end, all this didn't matter. It wasn't like he would pick anyone from twelve anyway. Mother said they would always leave first, yet they would go live in The Capitol of course, maybe even District One.

She had said that King Graham had sent the two girls from Twelve home last, of course besides his queen. Obviously, she was from Two. I always wondered why he would do that. He was raised by King Coriolanus, who hated Twelve beyond words. He was the reason of this inequality.

King Graham, I was told, tried to fix most of our problems once he had become king, but the queen insisted on taking care of Twelve herself, orders of Coriolanus of course. That evil bastard saw the kindness in his son, and he made it go to waste. Sometimes I wonder why he let her take control at all. But then I remembered my mother told me stories of how unfairly the old King would treat his son. Wiping him with belts, slapping him harshly. Truly evil.

"You're right," I agree, smiling at Madge half-heartedly. After what felt like ages, we had finally arrived at the end. Madge was first, I watched how the Peacekeepers would treat her with much more patience and kindness than how I would be treated.

It was obvious I was from The Seam, considering most people from there had dark hair, grey eyes and olive toned skin. But it was my worn out dress which held the truth.

Madge smiled brightly for her picture, nothing close to genuine. I knew mine would be even worse. I was a terrible actress, and an even worse liar. But weren't those two the same?

Madge had finished, and waved goodbye as she walked over to where her mother waited for her. In all honesty, I wish mine were here right now. I needed some reassurance.

"Come forward," the Peacekeeper spat, and I listened. I knew that there would be a difference. Why wouldn't there be? There would never be an equality here. There would never be an equality anywhere in Panem. I was certain of it.

"Sign here," he instructed. I signed my name on the sheet, my age, my height, my weight, and other useless information. "Here's the money. Don't waste it on something stupid like all others from The Seam will."

I held back the scowl, and the quick reply I wish I could've answered with. But I knew he would take it back, and this would last my family for two weeks maybe. But it was worth it.

"Now smile," He slurred, and I did. I smiled brightly, genuinely, knowing this would last my family for a while. It was the happiest I've been in days. This was the certainty of food on my table, and warmer clothes on our bodies. This was the feeling of safety, and love.

After he snapped the picture, he shoved me out of the way. But I was happy now, and I knew my mother would be as well.

* * *

><p>"Katniss," A soft voice purred. "Katniss wake up, it's Reaping Day." I open my eyes lazily, finding Prim perched up beside me. She wore a large grin on her lips, and a brightness in her eyes.<p>

"Ugh," I moan loudly, closing my eyes again in exhaustion. "Not now, Little Duck." She shoves me playfully, insisting that I get out of bed one more time.

"C'mon," She whines, making her way out of the bed. "Don't you wanna look pretty for when you get picked?" I managed a laugh. I was happy that she had high hopes for me, for us. But it was unfortunate that I knew I was truly going there for nothing, missing a perfect hunting day in the process.

Eventually, I get up, following the usual morning routine. I eat some berries, boil some water by the fire, and take a bath. I use one of those special soaps my bother rarely buys, but had got to afford it because of the money yesterday we received.

I had told her not to waste it on something so stupid, like special flower soap. But now, I slightly regret it, pleased with the lovely smell. I get out, tie my hair in a braid, and wear the dress identical to yesterdays. Or the exact same one in all honesty.

Mom and Prim are ready as well, surely more excited and hopeful than I am. I know that Mom wants this deeply, and that we'd have more than enough with the money we'd receive.

"Are you ready?" Mom asks as we make our way out the door.

"Yes," I lie.

Making our way into town was crowded and there were plenty of people on their way to the Reaping. I see Gale along the way, going in the opposite direction as us. I know he's going into the woods, not wanting to watch the event.

I guess if I get picked, he won't be there to say goodbye. Maybe it was better that way. Why am I acting as though I'll get picked? The odds are extremely low. The chances are almost impossible.

I find myself in The Square faster than I expected, and before I know that's happening, I'm being ushered into a group of excited girls. I see Madge in a farther distance and wave at her. She waves back without reluctance, and then all of us flinch in shock when we hear a loud voice boom into the microphone.

"Hello everyone!" Effie Trinket. She was new to all this, and she dressed just like most of the other Capitol citizens. Their fashion statement was completely odd, considering the Monarchy dressed normally, and they… didn't.

"Happy Selection!" She announces, all the girls facing her. "And may the odds be ever in your favor." I roll my eyes internally at the stupid motto The Capitol always exclaims.

"As you all know, you're here to win the heart of Prince Peeta, a kind and companionate seventeen year old boy," she exclaims. I watch as a camera pans through us, and I know that The Prince is watching this, considering all the other Districts had finished their Reaping's. Madge told me that The Monarchy gets to watch The Reaping's live before they're announced publically and watched by everyone. "So let's begin!"

I watch as Effie waddles her way to the bowl, clearly not capable to walk properly in those massive heals. As though it were in slow motion, her hand reaches into the bowl. She tosses it around, and it finally grasps onto a slip.

She makes her way back to the microphone, and I can feel my heart beat quickly in nerves and anticipation.

"Madge Undersee!" She calls loudly, and I feel myself nod. That was obvious, I knew that was going to happen. I'm sure we all did. I see girls in the crowd roll their eyes and make bitter comments as she walks up on stage.

Not very royal of them, I think to myself.

I wonder what the Prince must be thinking. Was he happy at the beautiful blonde on the stage? Surely he must be, she was the best choice in the District.

"Congratulations!" Effie exclaims, making her way shake Madge's soft hand. I watch again, as she leaves Madge awkwardly in the center of the stage, and waddles back to the bowl.

Instead of reaching deeply into the bowl as she did before, she pick the first one at the top, and makes her way make to the microphone. I breathe in a shaky breath, not knowing to hope to be chosen, or to not be chosen.

"And the last girl is," Effie says, opening the folded paper. I can feel the stiffness of all the girls, wishing for it to be their name that would be called out.

But it wasn't.

"Katniss Everdeen!"

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you all like it! I can assure you it will begin to get more interesting now!Feel free to review how you felt about it! Thanks again guys!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone! Sorry I haven't posted lately but school has kept be really busy! I can assure you that I will not stop this story and that this is honestly an amazing story to write!**

**I just won't be updating very often unfortunately! But I will try my hardest!**

**Thanks for reading! You are all the best!**

* * *

><p>"<em>You cannot change what you refuse to confront."<em>

_-Unknown_

* * *

><p>"<em>Dad," I say his name as though it were a question.<em>

"_Yes, Little Mockingjay?" He asks me as we walk home from the woods, his hand holding mine. _

"_Do you ever think you hear something wrong, but it's right?" _

"_All the time," he states. "But you know my love; that happens for a reason." _

_I look up to him curiously. "What do you mean?"_

"_We only think we hear something wrong because we base things on what we know, and what we're used to. Sometimes we forget that changes are real, and that not everything goes the way we think it will."_

* * *

><p>I had heard a familiar name called out into the microphone, echoing throughout The Square. And when it had finished echoing throughout The Square, it continued, much louder, in my mind.<p>

All eyes were on me. A canvas of colours pouring their way into my soul, making me freeze. I was afraid that if I'd move, I would wake up from this dream.

Had my ear deceived me? Had I heard wrong, or had I heard right?

I didn't really know which one I wanted more. Both came with good and bad consequences for my family. But which one had better consequences for me?

Am I being selfish now? Already, and I hadn't even thought I heard right. Maybe it was the wind, or the sky. Maybe even the birds.

But it wasn't.

Effie repeated the name once again. "Katniss Everdeen!"

No, I had heard correctly.

I felt as though I were glued onto the concrete which held me up. As if I were a part of the ground itself. Suddenly, I felt two hands shove me forward lightly, as though indicating me to go up. And I was brought back to the world.

I make my way out of the crowd of glaring girls, wishing to take my place. Never would I have thought a Merchant girl would want to be in my place before. It never even crossed my mind. It was supposed to be me, who would envy them.

And I still do.

The stairs are narrow, yet I make my way up fine. I keep my eyes grazed onto the floor, not daring to stare up into the crowd of jealous girls who I know. But I have to.

Effie grabs my arm gently once I'm fully up on stage, and waddles me forward with her, instructing me next to Madge. Instead of staring down upon the crowd of glares and tearful eyes, I look to Madge.

She wears a fake smile, but her eyes are filled with nothing but pure kindness still. She makes me feel less heavy, and suddenly I'm afraid I'm too light as I look towards my mother and sister who grin proudly in the wave of people. I felt like a balloon tied up to a fence, waiting to be lifted higher into the air.

I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of me when I realize how well my family will finally coop. Not one care about how Prince Peeta thinks of me, not one fear that he won't like me. Because for weeks, we'll be given food and dollars.

For once in my life, I feel safe.

Effie makes her way in between Madge and I, her words ready to boom into the microphone loudly.

"This years selected girls!" she exclaims clearly. "Madge Undersee and Katniss Everdeen!" Although the reluctance is evident, as is the tension, they clap. They clap loudly, and freely. Or I had just thought they were clapping freely. My energy seemed to reflect upon them. Or it might just be my mind.

How was this possible? How would, I, Katniss Everdeen, a poor girl from The Seam, be chosen to go to the palace for the prince? How had this happened? I'm certain I must be the first Seam girl in history to be chosen for The Selection. For anything this important, actually.

The next few minutes go by quickly. I'm escorted into a room. A room bigger than my actual home. Inside the room is filled with leather seats and cozy looking chairs.

I feel my heart beat quickly, excited, nervous and scared all at once. I was now forever guaranteed safety. A luxury I thought I'd never afford. No more fear, and cold winter nights sleeping by the fire. No more worry of not having enough to eat.

I was bound to live in The Capitol now, even if I wouldn't get chosen. We had been given a better future. And I had latched onto it more than I thought I would. My mother had never given me a better opportunity in my life.

I suddenly hear distant footsteps, and the door busts open within second. Prim is running towards me, her arms wrapped around my waist tightly. Mom joins in, her arms around the two of us.

"I knew you'd get picked," Prim insists giddily, a tone in her voice I didn't think I'd ever hear. "You're the prettiest, smartest and greatest of them all!" I laugh and pat her head lightly.

"Thank you Little Duck," I smile, kissing the top of her head. "But now I won't be able to see you every day, aren't you disappointed?" I ask curiously, and I feel another feeling kick in.

I won't be able to see my family. They'll be staying here until Prince Peeta decides my fate. Hopefully, I'll be able to stay for a while. The longer I stay, the more money we will receive.

"Of course! But I still hope you'll be there for long, I hear they bring pies sometimes!" Prim exclaims, and I laugh.

I have to try to make my personality more… appreciative. Make myself seem lovelier, and less scary. Although these were things I didn't want to hide, these were things I had to hide. For my family. Not for me. Not now.

"You're going to be amazing, Katniss," she smiles, tugging onto my braid. "You'll be an amazing queen." I laugh at my mother's words.

"Alright Mom, let's not go too far," I state, Prim giggling along.

"I'm serious," she argues. "The Prince would be silly not to fall madly in love with you. Anyone would." I bring her in for a hug, knowing that I'll be departing soon. Prim joins in, and we share our last moments together for what could be months.

"I love you," I say to the two of them, the three of us in a tangle of arms and hair and love.

"We love you too," they both say, almost in the same tone. Sometimes I wonder how it's possible that Prim and my mother could be so alike. It's as though there wasn't one trace of my father in Prim. It was a bittersweet feeling.

A peacekeeper opens the door, ready to escort them out. Prim hugs me once more, and then walks out, but my mother lingers by the door. I see a certain sparkle flicker in her eyes, her mind dazing off into far off places.

"Katniss," she speaks my name softly. "Tell the king I say hello." She casts me one last smile before all I see is her shadow from the sunlight creaking in through the open window. And then, the door closes, and her shadow is gone.

* * *

><p>I'd never been on a train before. I've never really been in any stable, Capitol transportation before. Most of the District hasn't, and I'm certain it's mostly people of the Seam who couldn't even dream about it. And I was disappointed I hadn't.<p>

The train was packed with luxurious pastries and goods. Every fabric in here was soft or silky. Or both. It was like living in a dream. I still felt as though I'd need to be awaken soon, that I would awake on the healing table, and my mother would tell me I had been unconscious.

But I'm certain dreams were not supposed to last this long, and feel so real. And impact me this much. The only dreams that truly impacted me, were the nightmares of my father's death. They came often, and managed to take up most of my nights.

Sometimes, most of the time, they weren't real ones. My father being torn apart aggressively by mutts. The Kings father, King Coriolanus, beating my father and the other miners to death. Or him dropping a bomb over the mines, laughing devilishly.

King Coriolanus always held a spot in his heart for District 12; the deepest darkest, most awful part. I was told by my mother, my father and many other citizens that they were always treated more unfairly by him than by any other of The Monarchy.

But Queen Dea was not much different. She was simply just better at being discrete, and hid her feelings towards us in the back of her mind. I turn my head towards Madge, who sits next to me on the leather sofa.

Effie is locked up in her room, and the only other people on this train are servants from The Capitol. Not all of them get to live in luxury. One of the servants, a blonde one, hands Madge a mug of coffee, and offers me one too. Reluctantly, I reach out to grab the warm drink and hold it to me tightly.

"Thank you," I whisper, the blonde servant nods politely, and walks away, no words being spoken upon her lips. Was she an Avox? There were rumours that most of the servants from The Capitol are originally from the Districts, but have committed a crime.

Instead of being brutally excited by a Peacekeeper, they're taken to The Capitol, and in punishment, their tongues get cut off. Unfortunately, yet unsurprisingly, most of them commit crimes as stealing food for themselves or family. Or clothing and blankets. Things to keep warm, and to keep living.

It's unfair. But maybe they're warmer in the comfort of The Capitol, where there are all types of blankets and clothes and food. Honestly, if they wanted to let them suffer, they would've kept them hungry, in their District.

Suddenly, the screen in front of us opens unexpectedly, and I almost feel blinded at the bright light it creates. Madge and I flinch, yet stay silent. We haven't spoken to one another since we've boarded the train.

"Welcome, welcome!" Immediately, I know who the giddy voice belongs to, and I groan internally. Caesar Flickerman was the most popular interviewer of Panem. He had tons of talk shows, produced most of the countries silly reality programs. He produced many long running drama and comedy shows which The Capitol couldn't seem to get enough of. He was certainly famous.

And of course, I would meet him. He interviewed the Royals all the time, and would interview all of the selected girls. And now, they're announcing all of the girl's publically. The 26 girls which would come to the palace all for one boy. How foolish. Yet, I was one of them. And I felt ashamed. I was only here for my family, but most of these other girls most likely aren't.

I wasn't one of them. I wasn't even close. My future was tied down to Gale.

_Gale._

He hadn't come to say goodbye. Of course not. He would see me again, and I'd most likely bring him and his family to The Capitol as well once we marry. I still felt anger that I didn't get to say a meaningless goodbye to him, all because he didn't show up. But perhaps it was better that way.

I turn my attention back to the screen, and watch, trying my hardest to be attentive. But Caesar's bright outfit distracted from his words, and I couldn't focus on a word he was saying.

I didn't understand why he dressed like that. The Royals dressed much more… normally. Although what they wore was expensive and silly and warm and rich. It was much more comparable to what most of the Districts wear, than the citizens of The Capitol.

"So let's begin introducing the wonderful ladies!" Caesar exclaims, his straight pearly teeth blinding me. The crowd cheers at his words, and next to Caesar sits The Royals.

They're sitting on the long red couch, fake smiles and perfect postures almost taking away what makes them human. King Graham sits at the far left, his eyes look tired. It was something even the makeup and smiles couldn't hide. Yet the rest of him was clean and proud. And perfect.

The queen held much more pride though. A different kind. Where The King took pride in his son, Queen Dea took pride in her country. And she certainly showed her pride in elegance and beauty. Her blonde hair was tied up perfectly. But not effortlessly. And her makeup was put on elegantly. But not brightly. The King held more genuineness inside of him, and The Queen held perfection inside of her.

They were the furthest thing from in love. Anyone paying attention would notice. But no one in The Capitol had the time to pay as much attention as us. Because they might have beauty and money, but we get love. True love. So how was it possible for them to notice something they haven't truly gotten to know or encounter? And especially, to feel.

They based true love from movies and Caesar's romance shows. They based it off what they thought it was; perfection and beauty. Everyone in movies and shows were beautiful and perfect looking. Although they had flaws, fake stupid flaws, the characters always seemed to complete each other. Like they were the missing puzzle pieces to finish the perfect puzzle.

But true love wasn't fixing flaws, and creating perfection. It was dealing with flaws, and hating perfection. Because true love wasn't perfect; it was inconvenient and silly.

And I'm certain most people in The Capitol never got the chance to experience it. But maybe they did, but they just didn't get to keep it. Their ideas of love were based off of stereotypes, whereas mine were based off of real people.

"Are you looking forward to seeing the selected girls for the first time, Prince Peeta?" Caesar asked, smiling widely. That was a lie. Prince Peeta would get to watch the Reaping's live. But I suppose Madge only knew that because of her father, and told me because I was her only true friend.

"Oh, certainly!" Prince Peeta insisted, a small smile upon his face. I couldn't tell whether or not it was genuine. Prince Peeta was the only one who ever made me wonder. All the other Royals were obvious whether or not something was coming from the heart, but he always managed to confuse me. And I hated it.

"Fantastic!" Caesar exclaimed, and the crowd cheered even louder. When the camera pans to the audience all I see is a canvas of warm and cold colors. They looked like cartoons almost. It was completely ridiculous.

"Let's begin with The Capitol! Our lovely home!" The crowd cheers loudly, and I swear I saw the Prince flinch. I almost laugh. The screen cuts to a beautiful outdoors area filled with trees and fountains.

In a large square are plenty of girls with all sorts of hair colors. Purple, blue, green, and pink are the most popular. I don't think there's one normal hair color in there. Madge makes a noise which sounds a lot like a giggle. And I recite it.

A girl with a large purple wig taps the microphone twice and then we are cut immediately to when she calls out the first name. Her long fingers open the perfectly folded paper and she reads out the name clearly.

"Portia Styles!" She exclaims, and suddenly a loud squeal fills my ears and a girl runs onto the stage. She came up on stage, giddy and excited. Her milk chocolate skin seemed flawless, her hazel eyes shined in the sunlight and her yellow wig seemed too big for her head. Certainly, without all the makeup and wigs, she must be beautiful.

The next name is called out, I think I had heard something like Cressida, but I don't pay attention, considering Portia takes up most of the energy on stage. Her smile is bright and perfect, and her long legs look even longer with those monstrous shoes she wears.

I look to the other side of the screen, Prince Peeta smiling normally, but he doesn't look all there. Maybe he had already seen a beautiful girl he would dedicate himself to from when he watched them live. Or maybe he tried to hold the same look towards everyone, so there wouldn't be an assumed favouritism. I admired that.

And then, we're cut to District One. Once again, we only get to hear the names and see the faces. No description, just names and faces, and then next District.

"Glimmer Morris!" The name makes me cringe. But the girl makes me cringe more. The tall blonde practically skips onto the stage, her hair tied up, showing her perfect features. Her eyes are an emerald green, yet I can almost feel them burn their way into me.

"Cashmere Morris!" I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. Sisters? I wouldn't be surprised considering their similarities. The share the same hair and eyes, and most of their features are alike as well. But where Glimmer holds more sexiness, Cashmere holds more of an elegant snobby appearance.

Prince Peeta still holds the same look, considering he had already seen them before. Maybe they show the Reaping's before to hold back shock and the freedom to express his questions and feelings. Maybe it was preparation, and practice. Of course it is. How would they be looked at if they held normal emotions, such as shock and expression? It would take away their image of perfection.

But then I see Prince Peeta look over to his father and mouth the word "cousins," confirming that they were in fact related. The hair and eye color wasn't exactly what made them look alike, considering it was very popular in One. It was the nose shape, the eye shape, the face. And the same high cheekbones, which were higher than any Capitol skyscraper. And of course, the last name had said it all.

And then we cut to 2.

"Clove Ferland!" A girl with dark hair and matching eyes walks onto the stage. There was no excitement in her steps, she just walked onto the stage normally and smirked. She was much smaller than the four other girls, but seemed strong and persistent. But not in the way I would call myself. She seemed more… ruthless and dangerous almost.

I tell myself to keep away from this one. Who knows what her goal is.

"Enobaria Hollow!" A fierce looking girl in brought up on stage, and she wears a smirk as well. But when she opens her mouth a little, I can swear I've never seen teeth that sharp in my life.

Eventually, I lose interest and all I hear are waves of names in my head.

Annie Cresta, Johanna Mason, Lavinia Halter, Felicia Forth (who looks as sly as a fox), Rue Anther, and many other's who haven't captivated my attention.

But then, it's our turn.

Firstly, Madge is called up, her appearance beautiful and effortless. The camera then pans to her proud looking parents. When I turn to look towards Prince Peeta, he wears a different look. A much wider grin, and a bright look that I haven't seen before.

But then it's me.

I watch as I make my way on stage, dumbfounded. I walk slowly, completely shocked. It only occurs to me now how much of an idiot I appeared as. I wore a worn out dress, my hair was in a simple braid and I looked like myself. I looked normal.

I feel like my stomach twists when I look towards the Royals. King Graham is still smiling, as is Queen Dea. But I see something else behind her smile. Hatred. Of course; I was from The Seam.

I'm about to cast my eyes towards the Prince, that is until my family appears and I see the King's face falter for the first time is my life. I'm certain Madge has noticed to when she almost gasped. It was so odd.

For a matter of a few seconds, his smile turned into a saddened frown, but then he had regained himself only seconds afterwards. But the look in his eyes, and the way he looked at the screen looked as though he was hurting.

I knew that Mother had met King Graham, but I was never told they had anything more, and I'd never assumed. But now, when my mother had told me to tell him hello, and his face when he saw her, I wonder. How deep had this relationship been?

Suddenly, I manage to look towards Prince Peeta. But the screen has cut to Madge once more. And he smiles brightly, again. But when the camera goes towards my confused face I see something.

His face tugged into a wider smile, and I can swear his eyes turned a brighter shade. But he looks towards me in a way he hasn't looked at any of the other girls. With hope, with appreciation. With truth.

But maybe I had just dreamed it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi everyone! I'm sorry for the delay but I've been quite busy with school lately and couldn't have the time to do this! I really, really hope you all enjoy this chapter and I want to thank you all for sticking with me for so long. I appreciate it beyond the capacity that words give. **

**So thank all of you so much once again, and I'd appreciate it if you guys would review and tell me how you feel about it! Once more thank you guys so much and Katniss and Peeta will meet in the next chapter, but in this chapter you meet important characters.**

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><p>"It's not what you look at that matters. It's what you see." –Henry David Thoreau<p>

_I looked at him. Really, really looked at him. But I couldn't see what all the other girls did. There were no gorgeous looks, and overwhelming eyes. No golden hair or interesting personality._

_Where everyone I knew saw a prince, I saw a boy._

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><p>The palace was enormous. It wasn't even enormous, it was bigger than that. It was big and beautiful, and it felt infinite. Looking through the halls felt like looking into an endless tunnel. There was no end, and I couldn't ever imagine being raised is such a place. Or raising children in this place. I'd lose them within the blink of an eye.<p>

The place literally smelt like hope and dreams. And certainly food as well. Delicious pastry smells made their way to my nose and I felt myself relax, my bones calming down and my fingers untangling themselves from the fists by my side. Madge and I walked through the kitchen, side by side. Although where Madge lived was quite wide, this was nothing in comparison.

Madge and I are quickly escorted into a large room with hung pictures as well as instruments and soft looking couches.

"Take a seat," The woman whose been escorting us instructs bitterly. Clearly she wasn't pleased that she had gotten stuck with the rats from District 12. "But don't dirty the chairs with your filthy dresses."

"Says the maid," I retort, causing her to shut her mouth, yet her eyes still boring into mine, as though she were trying to demolish me. Reluctantly, Madge sits down, gulping loudly. But I stay standing, instructing that I don't take orders from woman like her.

"You think you're funny," she smiles bitterly once more, a strong tone forming from her voice. "But the prince will not want to marry such a rebellious Seam Brat who won't listen to orders from people who are clearly more important than her."

With a glance towards Madge, she nods, and walks away. The tapping of her heels sounding like crashing glass onto the marble floors. And although I whisper it, and she was quite a distance from me now, I'm certain she had heard me.

"Good." And I remain standing.

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><p>Madge and I stay in the room for what seems to be hours. She still keeps her posture straight siting on the leather couch, yet I still stand, slouching against the cream walls of the palace room.<p>

I knew that this was crazy, but I wish I were home. Although the room was filled with pastries and fruit we were allowed to pick off of, we didn't. And the room was too big for comfort. It was bigger than my whole home itself. It was uncomfortable and I wasn't used to it. And I wasn't planning on getting used to it either.

"I'm getting hungry," Madge says finally, standing from her seat, her posture remaining perfect. "I think I'll have some fruit. Would you like some, Katniss?" I shrug, uncertain. I was getting quite hungry myself, and I was sure the food here was luxurious, as was everything else. But for now, I didn't know whether or not I was ready to have a taste of something so wonderful yet. The fear of enjoying it too much, of getting attached.

But that was silly, this was my life forever now. Even if I didn't win I would live here, in The Capitol. So perhaps it wasn't as bad of an idea as I thought it would be.

Madge walks over to the trays of fruit standing on the top of the large piano. Carefully, Madge drags her hand over to take a piece of perfectly pink watermelon. I watch as she takes the white napkin next to it as well, and takes a savouring bite into the juicy fruit.

I didn't know what I was anticipating, but the seconds the fruit hit her tongue she moaned in delight. Without a shadow of a doubt, I follow her lead, grabbing the watermelon and a napkin to follow it.

I immediately shove the wonderful fruit in my mouth and a handful of unknown, exotic flavours fill my mouth instantly. I, as well, moan in delight as the flavours begin to get to know my tongue. Never before had fruit been so good.

The fruits in the woods back at home could never manage to capture such taste, and nothing that they sold at the Hob could ever be compared to this. I couldn't imagine getting to have this every day, and I practically melted at the thought.

After eating our slices of watermelon, we begin to experience different fruits. And I could admit that after a series of blueberries, blackberries, kiwis, apples and other delicious fruits nothing seemed to compare to their perfectly red cherries, which crunched in your mouth at every bite.

"I can't imagine what the pastries taste like!" Madge laughs grabbing a slice of mango. "I think I'll try some after this, what'd you think?"

"I don't know," I say biting into the last cherry from the bowl. "I think I'm too stuffed to have anything else right now." Madge laughs and shrugs.

"Suit yourself," She says kindly, smiling brightly. "More for me then." I watch as Madge makes her way to the desk in the far corner of the room, where all the magnificent looking pastries laid.

I smile to myself. Watching Madge be so involved was honestly quite funny. She wasn't as open as this before, and I certainly hadn't thought of her as a glutton. I turn my head towards the walls, focusing on the pictures which hung up upon the walls.

I walk closer up to the picture of the willow tree, greens and blues and yellows and oranges and greys and all sorts of beautiful colors vibrant in the image. The willow tree stood alone in a meadow, a sunset forming in the background it was quite beautiful.

As I made my way closer to the picture, I notice something quite shocking. My eyes widen immediately once I realize that this wasn't a picture at all, but a painting. I feel my eyebrows wide and my mouth hang open.

This was like nothing I had ever seen before. There were so many small details, like the gleaming of the sun, or some of the ripped leaves at the bottom of the willow tree for it to be a painting.

But it was.

And the most shocking moment of all was when my eyes landed on the initials at the bottom right corner of the painting. P.M. Peeta Mellark, obviously.

Unless that had been a coincidence, but I'm certain it wasn't. I remember in every interview the prince was in, there would always be mentioning's of his artistic skills. But never had I thought that it would've been as good as this. Prince Peeta Mellark, always beyond my expectations.

Hopefully, his personality was the same. And suddenly, at the realization that he was currently in this palace as well, I feel my heart beat much quicker. Not because I was nervous or excited to see him, but because this was confirming how real this was.

And tonight, Mom and Prim would have a big, lovely meal that would most likely have to be divided so it would last for a few days. But tonight, and from now on, they didn't have to anymore.

So I guess somehow, I do owe this to Prince Peeta Mellark. His birth, only one month before mine, seemed to bless me with the safety of my family.

Already, I was beginning to owe this boy things and I hadn't even met him yet. And that was the only fear I was given tonight.

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><p>The door bangs open, and Madge and I snap our heads from the couch towards where it came from. It was evening now, and I was expecting the bitchy maid to come once more, but instead there was a man.<p>

He waddled over towards us, a flask in his hands, and the stench of liquor on his clothes. As though protecting myself, I back away, and so does Madge. The drunk middle-aged man seems to notice our unthoughtful movements and laughs bitterly.

So far my only impression from the people that worked here was bitterness. And I didn't like it. If they were all rude and bitter, I could only imagine what Prince Peeta was like.

"Well geez," he slurs, and I could smell the whiskey from his breath from where I stood. "Do I smell that strong then ladies, or are y'all just too afraid of the drunk coming to bring you to your rooms?"

"_You're_ bringing us to our rooms?" Madge asks cautiously, afraid of his answer. His shaggy hair falls into his eyes as he nods heavily. "You're right I am!" He then begins to laugh without reason, and loudly at that.

Instinctively, we both back away more and watch as his laughter echoes throughout the room. His rough chuckles begin to get louder, and Madge and I take notice in a silhouette by the open door.

"Haymitch?" A steady voice asks, getting closer until the man in finally into sight. "What on earth are you doing?"

As though the question was never asked, the man; Haymitch, keeps laughing in a series of chuckles. "Not again," the man, which I assume is a guard, mutters. "Thresh!" He calls out loudly. "Help me out would you?"

Suddenly, another strongly built man comes into sight, grabbing Haymitch's shoulder in a tight grip. "Alright Haymitch let's put you to your room," Thresh says in annoyance. "We'll talk to you about getting drunk on the job- again, in the morning."

But Haymitch keeps laughing. He laughs as the guard, Thresh, takes him out of the room. He laughs as he makes his way through long and beautiful hallway. And even when he is gone, taking a left into another hallway, we can still hear the echoes of his chilling laughter.

"I apologize about the drunk bastard," The guard seems to say it genuinely, yet there's a large smirk upon his face. "But Haymitch has been Prince Peeta's mentor for lots of things since he was a young boy, and no one can get rid of him."

"Why would you hire a drunk to mentor the prince of our country?" I ask in complete disbelief. The idea was completely atrocious and inconsiderate for the country, which he was supposed to lead someday. Immediately I feel a worry whether or not Prince Peeta has proper morals for our country. If not, he'll lead the country into nothing but ashes.

"Haymitch wasn't always like that," the guard explains, his expressions softening unexpectedly. "Two years ago something happened and he found an awful comfort in the habit of drinking. It was his refuge, and it made him forget I suppose."

"What happened?" I ask instinctively, not knowing how else to respond. But then I remember when people would ask me about my father, and how I detested more than anything when they would be so unthoughtful. So quickly, I recollect myself. "Never mind, actually."

"Alright then," the boy laughs after moments of silence. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight from the open window and I can't help but notice how attractive he is. His tan skin shines, his bronze hair seems to be effortlessly beautiful and his sea green eyes turns all of his features to gold, as though the cherry on top of the cake.

"I'm Finnick," he states, another charming smirk overcoming him making him look like so much more of a god. "I'm supposed to be helping out with District Four, considering it's my home District but there was a delay so I suppose I can escort two lovely ladies to their rooms then."

I turn my head towards Madge questioningly, catching her wide smile and rosy cheeks. She too thought he was quite the good-looker. I'm certain everyone does, though, it was hard to not be able to see that.

Madge and I share a look as he points his arm in the direction of the hallway, and out the door. The two of us obey his gesture, Madge in front of me moving as though she were dancing, her hair bouncing as she walked.

Closing the door behind us, Madge and I begin our stroll down the hallway. Finnick places a hand on each of our waists gently. I feel his cool touch through my dress and I know that it would send shivers down any girls' spine. But mine that is. Where they would enjoy Finnick's cool hands, I would enjoy a pair of warm ones.

We turn a corner, the walls beginning to turn a shade of pale blue, paintings by Prince Peeta hung upon the walls proudly. His initials always at the bottom right of the portrait in black ink, indicating that this was surely his work.

One of the paintings caught my eye. A simple loaf of bread and a strand of wheat in a beautifully braided twig basket. The colors were warm and made my insides stir at how good the loaf of bread looked. Immediately, I realize that we still hadn't had a full meal yet in the palace.

And suddenly I was overcome with excitement. I couldn't imagine how devouring the meals must be here. People can cook wonderfully and the tastes would be a complete journey. As a poor Seam Brat, I couldn't be more thrilled.

"Which one of you is Miss Katniss Everdeen?" He asks, eyebrows raised as he stops in front of a door with a guard standing protectively by it. In every hallway there are at least five guards, but in this one there are about a dozen. Some standing by a door, some walking back and forth throughout the halls.

"Me," I instruct as I step forward, my hand half raised by my face. Finnick just flashes me another one of those memorable charming smiles, and I roll my eyes causing him to grin wider.

"Your room miss," he states, pointing to one of the rooms with a guard standing by it. "This is Castor, he'll be guarding your door making sure everything is alright. Once you enter you'll be introduced to your maids, and they'll explain to you a few rules you'll need to respect if you'd like to stay in the competition."

I nod, yet am not sure whether I will agree to these rules. But anything that will keep my family safe will be agreeable to. I glance towards Madge and hand her a smile as I walk into the open door of my room.

Instantly, I'm shocked. I've never seen a room so beautiful before. The large bed is in the complete middle of the room, a desk in the right corner, lamps and a chandelier hanging down. I find three large wardrobes, and a door which leads to the bathroom. Large curtains fall over the windows, and a door so I can make my way towards the balcony.

The walls were a grey shade, the floors marble and the ceiling extremely high. Paintings are hung in my room as well, of course, all by Peeta. At least four bookshelves next to one another piled up with an endless amount of stories.

I'm so invested in the room that I almost didn't catch the two woman behind me; my maids.

"Miss Everdeen." A high pitched voice practically sings. I turn from where I stand, admiring the bookshelves, and find two woman dressed in blue dresses. Awkwardly enough, they were quite similar to what I wore.

"Um, hello," I say slowly, watching as they curtsey right before my eyes. I look behind me, wondering if someone important had arrived through the doors, but it was just me. Only seconds later, they begging giggling at my gesture, and I follow.

"You don't have to do that," I state tugging at the end of my braid, a habit I seem to do when I was unsure, uncomfortable, nervous or whatever else. I've done it since I was young, and I don't plan on stopping now. "I'm not important enough."

"But you could be one day if you marry Prince Peeta," the one with the brown hair instructs. She's perhaps in her early thirties, and her brown eyes are piercing enough to melt any heart. The other woman, much older. Maybe her sixties perhaps, yet seems as strong as any rock.

"I doubt that," I laugh ironically, their eyes wide in confusion. They must've expected me to be excited; beyond thrilled. But I was excited. And not about Prince Peeta, but the safety of Mom and Prim.

"Well then," she says softly, looking at the other woman. "I am Cecelia, and this is Mags." I smile at the two of them, and begin to introduce myself as well.

"I'm Katniss Everdeen," I say, still tugging at my braid without a clue what else to say.

"Well I will be explaining to you a few of the rules as Mags runs you a warm bath, and we get you ready for the introduction dinner," Cecelia smiles as Mags off to get my bath ready, and almost immediately I feel the need to be doing so instead.

"I can run myself a bath," I request, standing from my seat on the edge of the bed, where they've placed me. Immediately, they both begin giggling again. "Miss Everdeen, we're your maids, it's our job." I shrug and let Cecelia sit me back down on the edge of the bed.

"But…." I begin, but Cecelia stops me. "Please, Miss Everdeen, if anything it pleases us to help you." After moments of thought I just nod, in acquiesce.

"Alright," begins Cecelia. "Let's tell you about all the rules and such." Suddenly, I feel overwhelmed as she begins speaking once more.

"You shall not be late for one meal. You must always be where instructed to be, and on time, especially if asked by any of the Royals. There will be no being rude, no lying, and you must be at every lesson which teaches you to be a better queen if you get married to Prince Peeta. You must wear a dress at all times, no pants. So far do you understand?"

I nod quickly, my fingers still fiddling with the end of my braid. I was wondering if anyone else was overwhelmed. "Everyone has a talent, so it must be used. When the time comes you will be asked to show your talent to the Prince as well as the fellow ladies."

"What does that have to do with anything?" I ask in anger. My talents consisted of things that were illegal and things I didn't enjoy doing in public. I wasn't planning on singing for anyone in here, and the only thing I would shoot was the maid from before.

"When you are queen, the country enjoys when you have talent that is put at its best potential. It makes you more, seem more grateful and certainly more desirable," Cecelia explains kindly. "And I'm certain it'll be enjoyable for the Royals to be captured by your talent." Without another word being said, I let her go on.

"You will always be on your best behaviour and follow these rules and accept them from the bottom of your heart, or else you will not find yourself being as dedicated and as happy to be here." _Too late for that_, I think.

"Oh and most important of all," Cecelia begins, he hands clasped together tightly, pieces from her tied hair falling upon her soft features. "There will be no getting together with anyone else in this palace other than the Prince."

"So he can mess around with the 26 girls that are here but I'm not even guaranteed to have him," I laugh bitterly. All this bitterness has seemed to catch up with me. But it could've just been the exhaustion. "Because that's fair."

"Miss Everdeen!" She chastises, her voice in a loud whisper. "It is how it is. Now do you accept the rules?"

"I kinda have to," I state laughing. But then Cecelia speaks up, catching me by surprise. "No you don't, because we are able to send you home right now. But I hope you stay."

"Oh," I murmur softly, staring at the ground below me. "Well then yes, I agree." Cecelia just smiles, and grabs my arm gently leading me into the washroom. "Get washed up and we'll help you pick out what to wear and fix up your hair as well."

Although I don't want them to, I agree, once again giving in to them. I don't need them to arrange my hair or pick out my dress. I like my braid and my leather jacket and green top. Maybe we can compromise.

I begin getting undressed and make my way into the warm bath, the scent of lavender filling my nose. I look up to the grey wall catching glimpse of what has to be my favourite painting the Prince has ever painted.

There, I see a beautiful mix of greens and reds and blacks. And a bird sitting on a tree branch.

A mockingjay. Immediately I think of my father and his nickname for me.

Perhaps this was his way of telling me that he was here with me. That this was a good idea, and that this was going to lead to a good path.

Well, at least I hope so.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi everyone! I really hope you enjoyed the last chapter and will like this one as well. She meets Peeta under funny circumstances so I hope you enjoy! I updated because I don't have much studying this week, so I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

**Thank you all for following/adding as a favourite/reviewing**

**You are all the kindest! Hope you enjoy!**

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><p>"Almost everyone will make a good first impression, but only few will make a good lasting impression." –Sonya Parker<p>

_It was no lie that most Merchants thought of us, those from The Seam, as filthy peasants. And it was no lie that all of us thought of them as unloving, dishonest snobs. _

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><p>"You've got to be kidding me." My words seem to escape my mouth much harsher than I'd expected them to. Clearly, my inner huntress was making its way to my thoughts, and my mouth.<p>

I stood by the bed, staring down at the dress which laid before my eyes. The red gown was draped over the bed, the silky fabric creating an urge for me to run my fingers over it softly. I resist the temptation by running my fingers over the soft robe which hid my nude body underneath it instead.

"You don't like it?" Cecelia asks, her concern filling her words thickly. I turn to Mags, who shares the same genuinely worried look upon her face. I let out a small sigh. This wasn't me. I wasn't one who enjoyed wearing dresses, especially ones like these. Elegant and fancy were not suitable enough to describe how rich this dress was.

I'd never seen anything like it. The only woman I've ever seen wear dresses as precious as this one is Queen Dea. I immediately doubt myself once more. There were not enough words in the world for me to describe how uncertain I was about whether or not I was ready for this.

Surely, I should be. This is saving Mother and Prim. And it's saving me as well, and Gale and his family. _Breathe Katniss, _I remind myself. _It's not like you'll have to marry Prince Peeta, just act happy for the time being, alright? _The fact that I have to reassure myself saddens me a little.

"No, I do," I lie to them, their concerned faces turning into wide grins. "It's great." I wonder how they can believe my monotone expression and terrible lying skills. Gale would always tell me how much of a terrible actress I was, and that one day I'd have to pay for it. So I suppose that that day is not today.

"Lovely!" Cecelia exclaims, clapping her hands together in utter joy. "Let's get you ready to meet Prince Peeta then." Her smile grows wider, as if it were possible, and Mags heads off to get my dress prepared.

Suddenly, I realize that I hadn't heard Mags speak one word yet. I begin to wonder whether or not she's an Avox. She was old enough to work here when King Coriolanus was ruling, and it was rumoured that he'd do it to most of his servants, if not all.

I find it foolish, considering how would they communicate with him? But maybe he didn't want them to. If anything went wrong, they'd have to figure it out on their own I suppose. Perhaps they'd write him notes. But Mom told me he was impatient and had no tolerance for those less important than him.

Now that King Graham rules, I guess it happens less often. But his wife certainly must practice the old tradition, following the brutal steps of her father-in-law.

Once Cecelia and Mags have left the room to get other paraphernalia for my 'make over' I place on my matching lace underwear and bra that they've prepared for me. The black lingerie makes me feel the sexiest I've ever felt in my lifetime and I'm uncertain about whether or not I enjoy the feeling yet.

I look at myself in the wide mirror which hangs onto the wall, staring at myself. I look like a completely different person already. My skin is shining due to the products they've given me, my eyebrows are beautifully plucked. My nails long yet perfectly shaped, my hair cut an inch shorter, yet it still makes it was to the middle of my back. My face is radiant and even my eyes seem to have more flare to them.

"Here you are Miss Everdeen." Cecelia's voice shocks me and I immediately grab my robe and hide my partially naked body. Once again, she begins giggling and I feel myself getting slightly annoyed.

I quickly place my robe back on, extremely uncomfortable with anyone seeing me half naked. Even if she was my maid, I was uncomfortable. I'd be uncomfortable if it were anyone, and hated more than anything people seeing me nude. I even disliked it when my mother would see me in my shorts and tank top; my pajamas in the summertime.

"You don't have to hide, darling," she insists, walking over to me, placing the hairbrush on the mahogany desk by her side. "We're going to be dressing you the entire time you're here!" _Great_. Another reason to want to leave.

"I understand," I begin, backing away, practically into the mirror. "But it's just something I'm uncomfortable with, and I can easily dress myself just fine." Cecelia widens her smile, walking closer towards me.

"We know that, but it's our job and you're time here is for relaxing and falling in love," she swoons, practically rocking back and forth on her heels. "So let us do the work, all you have to do is be pretty!" I let out a soft sigh, hanging down my head.

I don't want to disappoint them, so as I see Mags walk in the room with a few more necessities, as well as grasping onto the dress, I let the robe slip off of me. The soft, silver robe falls to the ground in a quick motion and stays there. I walk over to where Mags waits for me, the dress in her hands.

"Oh my," Cecelia gawked, her hands tightly together once more. "I don't understand how you could be so ashamed, you have such a lovely figure. So petite!"

I immediately feel anger. This was no beautiful, or slender girl. This was the conclusion of a girl who barely gets to eat. I hated how people from the Capitol would always assume that being as scrawny and young looking as I am is attractive. Being tall and muscular and having some meat on your bones was surely the true beauty. A beauty I wish I could have.

I practically had a flat chest, and everything about me was too angular. It was disgusting, and I hated it. Thankfully, my bones were quite big so I wouldn't look like too much of a twelve year old little girl.

Hopefully I'll gain a few pounds here at the palace so I wouldn't appear as a breakable twig.

Reluctantly, I let Mags dress me. I pull up the silky dress and let Mags zip up the back of my dress, her fingers soft and warm. I hand her a small smile, which she returns. "You look absolutely beautiful!" Cecelia beamed, rushing over to hand me the silver heels, one in each of her tightly clutched hands.

I've never worn heels before, and my stomach twisted at the thought. Surely I would make a fool of myself in front of those from the higher Districts, but I'm certain I'm not the only one. Those from the lower Districts like me must be wearing heels for the first time as well, right? But I know that Madge has already worn them to parties her father has thrown, and all the other girls from other Districts are either the Mayor's daughter or some of the richest from their District. Maybe they had worn them already, too.

Immediately, I feel worried. Could it be possible that I was the only one in the competition who hadn't been included in this lifestyle? I know that I'm the poorest girl in the competition, which immediately makes me look the least desirable.

That's when it hits me. Was the reason I was here because I'm the entertainment? Was I a joke to the other girls? Was I here just to prove to the country that those from The Seam were unexperienced, weak peasants who contributed nothing but pure entertainment to the Capitol?

I'm instantly filled with nothing but rage. I quickly latch onto the heels that Cecelia handed me and placed them on my feet.

No. I will not let my people down. I will show everyone that we are more than just poor pieces of trash, and that District 12 is the strongest among all the Districts for having to deal with such inequality and hatred during all these years.

I will show Panem that I am a symbol for strength and for courage of my District.

And finally, I feel that I have another, much large purpose to be here than just to protect my family. I am here to bring honour to my District and demolish the inequality we've been given.

So I place the heels on, and I begin to walk.

* * *

><p>"Katniss," Madge calls out to me, escaping from her room only a hallway away from mine. She runs forward, looking absolutely ravishing in her golden gown. Her hair is tied up in a high ponytail, some strands falling down her face, her shiny golden gown hugs her figure yet spread towards the bottom. The dark liner brightens her eyes and her cherry red lips make her look like she truly could be the future queen of this country.<p>

"You look beautiful," I admit in awe, watching as Madge walks perfectly in her golden heels. Madge is truly golden at the moment between her attire and her hair. And certainly her polite and thrilling personality make her even more pure at the moment.

"Thank you," she says kindly, but then opens her eyes widely towards me. "But not as beautiful as you." Before I even know what I'm doing, I let out a gutty laugh of irony.

The strapless dress I wear, which hugs my figure falls loosely onto the ground as well. A gem stone hands loosely around my neck, and my hair falls into cascading curls down my back. I suppose I do look at my potential, but Madge is clearly more radiant than I am.

"It's true," she insists, placing with the golden circular necklace round her neck. "We should get going downstairs. We can't be late; it's against the rules." Madge winks and I smile back.

I watch as Madge walks effortlessly with her heels, yet I practically unsteadily waddle down the halls. Maybe trying to be a symbol of strength for The Seam wasn't going to turn out as well as I wished it could.

"I'm just gonna go to the restroom," I say, realizing how badly I need to pee. Once I find the main restroom down the stairs, I let Madge make her way to the dining room. Quickly, I rush into the large room and make my way into one of the stalls.

I let out a sigh once I finally made it, and quickly finish off, going to wash my hands by the sink. I make my way to the pearly white sink and wash my hands with their orange-colored soap.

I begin to look around, looking towards the right I'm immediately shocked. I see urinals. Oh great, I'm in the men's wash room. Hopefully no one else is here so I won't already be making a fool of District 12.

At full speed ahead, I wipe my hands on the towel and make my way towards the door, which opens straight into my face, and makes a hard collision with my nose. I gasp at the pain, backing away from the door, my hand immediately making it way to my nose.

"Oh my goodness!" A worried voice fills the room and I feel a hand on my back. "I'm so sorry, are you alright?" The warm hand feel impossibly good on my back and I practically lean into it. I disliked being touched my other people, but this touch felt so differently amazing. Like it had comforted me thousands of times before.

"No I'm not alright!" I bark, taking my hand away from my nose and finding a pool of blood. "My nose is bleeding you fucking idiot!" The words come out without thought and when I look up to find who the warm hands belong to I feel my face turn white, and I'm certain the red blood must've turned a ghostly white as well.

There, standing before me is a bewildered Prince Peeta Mellark, the boy I'm supposed to be fighting for. I back away in shock, embarrassment the only feeling running through me at the moment. Right now, I am nothing but an embarrassed bag of skin and bones.

"I…." I stammer the words, not knowing what to say. "I…. I'm…." Prince Peeta ignores my thought and as I expect him to immediately send me away, or to tell me that anyone so rude would never be queen and that this is a waste of my time. Instead, he rushes over to grab the towel from the sink and walk over to me.

But the second after he turns to face me once more, he stops, as though unsure whether or not he should continue. I harshly take the towel from his hand and place it onto my nose.

"Thanks," I mutter, stammering once more. He just stares wide eyed at me, and I do the same. I feel as though I'm a part of an intent staring competition between the Prince of the country and me, the poor Seam girl.

I slowly see his lips tugging at the corners, as though he were amused. Already, I am becoming the entertainment for the country once more, and I feel the same anger from before boil through my veins.

"You can laugh if you want," I practically spit, not caring whether or not he was a prince or a homeless boy. He was probably just a snob, like his mother. He probably hated The Seam and wanted us to suffer. He was probably _disgusted_ that a girl from the Seam would even be in the competition for him, and that he would send her home like the trash she was.

Suddenly, his mouth turns into a thin line once more, and he drops his head onto the ground, as though he were embarrassed. I roll my eyes, which he notices once he looks up.

"Why would I do that?" He asks genuinely, eyes so bright that I never thought anything could ever be so brilliant. Now it's my turn to laugh, the same from when Madge said I was more beautiful than her.

"Because you're all the same!" I insist, not caring whether or not my mother told me that King Graham was a good man, and Prince Peeta must be too. Now, all I see is his bitch of a mother, the woman who hates my District more than anything else. "You all think that District 12 is a joke; that we're puppets! Unfed rats, and useless for Panem! You must think I'm only here to entertain you all, so go ahead and laugh!"

He just stares at me, watches as I place the white towel to my face abruptly. "I'm no healer," he begins softly, as though I hadn't just yelled at him. "But I don't think you're supposed to be so rough with that."

I look up to him, my eyes burning with hatred. And instead of backing away, he walks forward. So I back away instead.

"I can do it if you want," he says. "I'm not gonna laugh; I'm not like that." I stare at him intently, watching as he comes closer. The closer he comes, the more warmth I feel radiate around me. I watch as his hand reaches out to grab the towel, and I slap it away.

He pulls back, I drop the towel, and just as I'm about to make a run for it he grasps onto my arm. "Wait!" He calls, pushing me back into the room. "The only people who are going to laugh at you are those other girls, so I'd wash up if I were you."

Once again, I just stare at him. Was he real? Was I dreaming? Surely, I must be. Had he just tried to... protect me I suppose. He hands me back the towel, which I take much more gently this time.

I put it back onto my nose, and make my way closer to the mirror and out of the corner where I practically hid. I pour water onto a part of the folded, bloody towel.

Suddenly, I see Prince Peeta rush out of the room. I let out a relived sigh. Thank goodness, he was gone. But then I hear his voice call out to Thresh. "Do you mind getting some more towels, please? Thanks." And he's back in.

_This has to be some sick joke. _He walks back into the room, and I turn my head, finally getting a good look at him. He wears a black tux, his hair curly, like a mop upon his head. He looks pretty built, and his blue eyes are still brilliant and shiny.

He walks over to me, and I back away once more. He stops once he notices my discomfort, which I've become accustomed to already in my day at the palace. "You're Katniss, right?" He asks, and I'm shocked.

He must've memorized all the girls' names. It'd be embarrassing to not remember them, and it would also appear as imperfect, which is an abomination in their eyes. The Capitol has an image of them, as does the entire country, and just one scratch could ruin a reputation.

"Yeah," I confirmed.

"What are you doing in the men's bathroom, if I may ask?" I shrug, roughly rubbing onto my nose.

"I was in a rush and went in the wrong washroom," I explain, placing my hair behind my ears, not wanting to get blood on my hair, or my skin.

"Oh," he says. "I'm sorry for bumping into you before, I didn't mean to make you look like a…." I look up to him, my eyes wide.

"Joke?" I ask bitterly. "Too late for that." I wipe the last of the blood and throw the bloody towel into the garbage.

"I wouldn't call you a joke," he murmurs, looking at me up and down. I feel myself blush and I look down at the ground, not wanting to show any signs to weakness. But that's too late, considering I'm certain I've made the most terrible first impression in the world.

"Sure you wouldn't," I say, facing him. I wonder why he stayed here the entire time with me.

"We're gonna be so late," I manage, looking at the clock at the top corner of the room. Prince Peeta looks up as well, his eyes widening. "My first day here and I've already broken a rule."

"No you haven't," Prince Peeta promises. "You're only late if I arrive before you. So hurry out and I'll go after you." Prince Peeta takes my arm and ushers me out, making sure all the guards were occupied with other things.

"Thanks," I manage, and practically run to the dining room. I feel myself flush in embarrassment, had that really just happened? Had I just spoken to the Prince of my country?

Well shit. He wasn't as bad as I expected.

* * *

><p>The dining room is already seated with all the girls, and they're all too busy talking to even notice me. So quickly, I grab my seat next to Madge and a girl with beautifully long brown hair and tanned skin wearing a lovely green dress.<p>

"Where were you?" Madge asks, placing a stand of my hair in place. "You were almost going to be late, I was worried." I shrug, pulling up my strapless dress before it falls off completely.

"Bathroom incident, the water wouldn't turn off," I lie easily for the first time in my life. "I had to get a guard to help me and he wouldn't let me leave until we figured it out together."

Madge just nods slowly, as though she were hesitant. I turn my head to the left of me, the girl with the green dress hands me a smile which I return. I remember her, one of the girls from 4. Annie Cresta.

"I love your dress," she says kindly, her warm smile still paltered onto her face. "Thank you, I love yours, too." I smile back at her, and Madge introduces herself, as do I. Annie introduces herself as well, and introduces the girl with the beige dress on her left.

"This is Johanna," she says, and the girl Johanna gives us a quick glance and a cocky smirk. "Are you two from the same District?" Madge asks, sipping some water from her drink.

"No," Annie chirped. "But Johanna and I have known each other for quite a while. Our parents know each other due to a work cooperation thingy." Madge and I nod. "And you two?"

"Yeah," Madge says for the two of us. "We're from the same District." Just as Annie opens her mouth, Finnick, the guard from before instructs us to stand. We obey, all of our postures perfect.

That's when I take a good look at the girls. Right in front of me, is Glimmer, and next to her, Cashmere, the cousins. They both wear matching white dresses, as though this was their wedding. Next to them, Clove and Enobaria. Clove in a purple dress, Enobaria in a yellow one.

"Ladies of The Selection!" Finnick calls out, his eyes grazing the room, yet I am shocked when they land on me, widened and focused. "Welcome your King, Queen, and Prince!"

We all begin clapping, and suddenly I notice that Finnick was not staring at me, but at Annie. He moves away, his eyes still traced onto her, and there escaped Queen Dea, King Graham and Prince Peeta.

We all curtsey when they arrive and Queen Dea smirks at us, happy with her power. I hated having to bow down to her. I wished that I didn't have to. So many girls look so honoured to be here, as though they were meeting a god. But I had just spoken to Prince Peeta, and I didn't see what anyone else saw.

Well obviously, why else would I have the courage to yell at him? _Oh god,_ I think. _I yelled at him. _Finally, it catches up to me and I realize I yelled at the prince of the country.

King Graham goes to the end of the right side of the table, next to the redheaded girl, Felecia, and across from her, the blonde one from the Capitol, Cressida. The Queen takes a seat next to him, and Prince Peeta sits on the left side. Clove on his left, and Johanna on his right, which makes me only three people away.

His eyes meet mine, and I catch a smirk on his lips. I look down onto my plate filled with salad. Hopefully no one noticed, but surely everyone was looking at him, and he had looked at me, so they must be looking at me, right? Luckily only Madge and Cashmere notice, the other girls too involved in him.

"Peeta," King Graham begins, "Please begin you speech for the lovely ladies." I turn to King Graham, who is certainly a handsome man indeed. I can see resemblances between him and Prince Peeta. King Graham looks through all the girls, and stops when he looks at me.

I was hoping that I was wrong, and he had looked at Madge or Annie instead, but I was correct. Maybe it has to do with Mom. I remember how his face fell when he saw her, and Mom telling me how she came to the palace for practice on healing. Surely, that must be it.

"Ladies," Prince Peeta begins, standing and scanning the room. "It is so lovely to finally get to meet you all. You are truly beautiful and elegant women, and I am beyond thrilled to have one of you be my bride." I see a camera tape Prince Peeta's speech. Supposedly they only tape speeches and certain special events. _Fantastic_. But soon, I'd have my interview with Caesar anyway. The camera must become my friend, I suppose.

"You all come from different homes, with different traditions I hope to be able to experience and share with you." Although it's barely noticeable, I see it. He's sweating, and his hands look clammy. He's _nervous_. I almost laugh, Prince Peeta is never nervous before the camera for anything.

That's when I realize; it's the girls. He clearly wasn't allowed to date, so as a seventeen year old boy, this is all so new for him. He stammers as he speaks and gulps quite often, but of course I'm the only girl who isn't as indulged in him to notice.

"I'm looking forward to this… uh… experience that we share. Thank you all for being here, and for coming." Prince Peeta sits back down, everyone, including me, clapping at his lovely speech.

Prince Peeta smiles, and once again his gaze turns towards me, who grins in amusement. It was finally my turn to be amused by the Capitol. Prince Peeta furrows his eyebrows in confusion, as though asking me if it was alright.

I nod slowly, yet keep the grin. He immediately knows what I'm implying. I continue grinning, and finally I see him retuning it. He turns towards the cameras and waves, it's so sudden I almost laugh again. Was he trying to be a fool on purpose, to prove a point to me?

All the girls in the room look to one another, confused by his grimace and his hand which waves uncontrollably. The King begins to chuckle yet the Queen wears an angered expression.

Noticing his mother's mood, the boy stops. "You may all begin eating!" Without another word, we dig in. As I place my first bite into my mouth, I pay no attention to the delicious flavours of the vegetables and the salad and the vinegar. No, I pay attention to him.

He acted like entertainment, as though to keep away from seeing me as a joke. Although I hadn't done anything stupid in front of the girls yet, he's already began to save my ass. He did it with the bloody nose, he did it now.

Already, I'm owing Prince Peeta so much. And I'm unsure whether or not I'm happy about it.

* * *

><p><strong>Tell me how you guys enjoyed it!<strong>


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